Strictly Prohibited ➳ THE HUNGER GAMES ✔️

|13| Threats Are The Last Resort Of A Man With No Vocabulary

Chapter 13 x

~~~~~~~~~~

Storm's POV

I can't explain how much it scared me that Hyperion Dormer had become the escort for District 2, that he had become that close. No doubt he had managed to pull a few strings – Hyperion had always been favoured by President Snow. Still, the notion scares me, although it only first strikes me, like a bullet to the brain, when we are waiting for the elevator after the chariots. Gloss and Cashmere are both wearing sparkly-bright, gem-studded costumes. It's the first time I've seen them since we hopped off the train and they were whisked away by eager prep teams.

Hyperion struts over accompanied by the pair from District 2, Brutus and Enobaria. I remember Enobaria as the girl who ripped out a tribute's throat with her teeth. I remember Brutus was ruthless. Other than that, I can't place details. Both are wearing costumes that look like they're made of rock, which match the stone-cold expressions on their faces. They are older than Cashmere and Gloss. Brutus is at least forty and Enobaria around thirty. I try not to freeze up when I see Hyperion. He offers me a mocking smile and inclines his head.

"Storm. You're looking radiant. Of course, not quite as radiant as District 12. You did see their little show, no doubt?"

I did. Cinna never fails to impress. I can't help but swell with pride for him, although I should be more concerned about District 12 upstaging Cashmere and Gloss. I glance at the Victors and note the cool, polite exchange between them. Doubtless they've met before, but that would have been as allies, as mentors with a common cause. Now, they are deadliest enemies, whether by their will or not.

"The Delucan siblings dazzled," I inform Hyperion coldly. It's difficult to try and maintain a casual composure around him. All I want to do is throw myself at him and claw at him, beat him like I'm a wild animal. I remember, with a sour taste in my mouth, that the last time I saw Hyperion in person was when he attempted to have his way with me at Lexus Kyden's dinner. That knowledge, too, makes it hard to exchange pleasantries.

Hyperion laughs. "My, so maternal. It almost seems like you've taken dear Cashmere and Gloss in as your own. You certainly do care for them."

I don't like the way Hyperion emphasises the word 'maternal'. I don't like it at all. There's a gleam in his eyes and my palms have suddenly become clammy. No, it isn't possible. The only person I told about my condition was Cashmere, and she would be the last person to tell Hyperion. The only logical explanation is that someone has been spying on me, someone who could have informed Hyperion. How much does he know? Is he aware that Gloss is the father?

I step into the lift and take a deep, calming breath. Cashmere flashes me a concerned look, and I know that she too understood the implications. Gloss remains as oblivious as ever. He is living in a world that nothing can penetrate, that very few are allowed inside. I delve in and out, not knowing if I'll ever be allowed permanent sanctuary there. Enobaria and Cashmere immediately engage in a passionate debate about the latest Capitolian styles, but I know that everything about it is empty. Neither woman truly cares anything for fashion, not when one or both of them will die within the next few weeks.

"This is your stop." Hyperion's fingers brush my arm and I recoil, flinching away from his touch. Gloss notices my reaction and his eyes become hard, although his expression doesn't otherwise change as he coolly observes Hyperion. I can see the smothered laughter in the Capitolian man's eyes – Capitolian. I am not them. I am not from the districts. I am me. I need no label. Gloss and Cashmere exit but I force a smile and shake my head. An impulsive decision enters my mind and I press the 12 button.